Two Cities
by Atheniandream
Summary: Post 7.13 *Spoilers & Speculation* Mini-Fic
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Notes: Decided to work on an alternative to upcoming 7.13. I wrote most of this months ago. Hope you guys like. BTW it's a Mini-Fic. Something to tide us over the Winter feel of this season's last few eps._

. . ….

Two Cities

By Atheniandream

. . ...

 _If things really go bad and your world shatter_

 _Maybe I can say something that actually matter_

 _If this progression can ease your depression_

 _Maybe I can say something that matter_

 _The Fiddlers, By Tingsek_

 _. . . …_

When Harvey Specter slams the front door shut behind himself, his heart is still pounding in his chest, the slightly unsteady thud echoing against his eardrums, blending into a discordant cadence, along with the cloudy patter of growing silence that folds him clean in two.

A suspended moment, and a faltering heartbeat later, his attention catches, his eyes just about managing to flick down with their sharpness, the only light in the room coming from his pocket, that ice blue glare, harsh as he winces at the bright light. He ignores the vibration against his hip, his hand sliding between the smooth material to press the 'divert call' button.

He closes his eyes, mashing his lips together just to still his rawest nerve.

 _He knows the caller ID without having to look._ _She calls with the same precision of timing every night that they are not together._ _He wonders when he became this man._ What he gave up to have that choice in the first place.

His eyebrows slide into a frown then, a paper sharp guilt etching into his bones, as if the weight of that one self opposed accusation in his head is enough to brand him and overcompensate for the lack of words in his mouth. Ironic, that his mouth can be filled with bile and yet no words thereafter. Like a gun filled with blanks he is purposeless. A loud crack of a whip without the flash of lightning.

He clears his throat, swallowing thickly before toeing off his shoes, one after the other, for once, not bothering to stow them carefully away.

It'll annoy him later, the displacement of his things, mismatching with the perfect synchronicity of which he lives his life.

 _But everything has a consequence._

 _Everything in his life has a cause, and a reaction. Effective. Perplexing._

 _And he is slowly turning into a number of different reactions all at once._

He walks numbly to his minibar, loosely twisting the cap of a glass decanter with a pop, and lays it to one side, as he pours an indulgent measure of whiskey into the glass that has appeared into his hand, as if by magic.

He lifts the tumbler to his lips, ignoring the slight chink of crystal glass against slowly wearing enamel as he opens his throat, drowning all feeling and half the glass's contents with it, in one sheer wave.

But the liquor doesn't taste like it used to. It doesn't calm him like it should. He frowns, the disappointment letting a memory in.

 _Him, running, his heart almost bounding out of his chest to claim the lead, chasing a person,_

A person, the one who was already gone long before, and now leaving him bare, with nothing but words in his mouth that poignant letter hanging in his hand, once more.

A love letter.

 _A parting gift, of such sweet sorrow..._

His eyes flick out to the Upper Manhattan skyline, and all at once, he feels so far apart from himself.

Like a piece of him is missing, or mislaid. Borrowed without consent or a valid loan agreement.

His hand fishes into his pocket, deliberately swiping away the missed call, and answer phone message alert. In a moment of oddness, he dials the number he barely ever remembers by wrote, putting the receiver to his ear, as he hears the ringing on the other end. He feels his fingers twitch around the glass, as he pulls it to his lips, the nervous tick of a man trying to still himself.

' _This is Donna. Leave a message'_ Peels out of the phone, lacking in that note of familiarity.

 _He hasn't heard her voice be like that in so, very long…_

 _He feels a harsh pull, the right side of his face and jaw twitching as he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, until the pressure of the situation has him staring back into glass._

 _All time stops, as he watches his own actions as if behind a mirror,_

 _Between the graceful flick of his left wrist,_

 _The amber lash of glistening moisture that flies into the air,_

 _And the crystal,_

 _Exploding onto polished wood, like ice onto the jagged rocks of his life._

He knows, then.

 _She isn't coming back._

 **Not this time.**

 **No matter what he does.**

 **. . . ...**

 _If things really go bad and your world shatter_

 _Maybe I can say something that actually matter_

 _If this progression can ease your depression_

 _Maybe I can say something that matter - The Fiddlers By Tingsek._

. . . . . ...

In Chicago,

She's known as _the woman who climbed her way to the top_. _Not_ slept. Climbed.

 _'Jessica's right hand woman'. 'Not' a man. In all the ways that help._

 _Just…_ _ **Donna.** And Donna Paulsen to those who haven't met her yet..._

Somehow, despite Jessica's temperament - _all_ _of which she's seen in all the varying colours over the years_ \- it feels good to be her second in command. Comforting, like she's in safe hands. It only highlights just what bad idea it had been - to fall in love with your Boss. And how refreshing it is, to not have that be the issue any longer.

She's not blind to the fact. She had resisted that cliche over the years. She had almost succeeded. _But he was…_

Gone. _He's gone,_ she reminds herself. _He's no longer in her orbit._

 _That time in her life has now been stripped from her._

Jessica has always treated her well, as an equal, and at the very least, as an extension of Harvey. Now, she is learning to fill those shoes as well.

Suddenly the world smells of roses, and she's a single entity, now. Admittedly there are some nights that she feels alone.

But she's also free of it all. _The stress. The heartache. The tension soaked memories that had begun to keep her up at night._

It takes two weeks for her to settle in.

Chicago is no New York City. It never can be. And yet, somehow, that helps.

A fresh start.

. . . ...

 _My weakness_

 _Is a woman_

 _Who got me on my knees at night_

 _When you were sleeping_

 _I'm not that strong baby_

 _You thought I was a faithful man_

 _I'm just a liar when comes the night_

 _And I'm washing my hands when the sun is rising_

 _\- Sinner By Isaac Delusion_

 _. . . ..._

Her empty office is like a sear against his heart. Every time he walks past it - the action being often, considering it's right next door to his - it catches in his chest, and for a split second he thinks about fleeing the scene, marching to the bathroom, or out of the building and onto the sidewalk just to regain control over the situation. Anywhere to not be right here beside it all. It's a palpable thing, if he were to admit it out loud, of course. Instead, he avoids talking about her altogether, which given her transition from his assistant to C.O.O, has been somehow easier than the last time. This time, isn't a direct amputation, however much he still bleeds.

It's the other people she left behind, that are making it harder. He ignores pointed glances from Mike, and the words he knows are lingering there against his lips, ready to come out and fill the lengthy silences that Louis carries with him everywhere. And Rachel...Rachel looks at him so much more harshly now, like accusations are written all over her face.

 _In the end, and out of all the rest, she is_ the one to break him down the fastest.

"Will you just... _stop_?" He blurts out one afternoon, when he's consulting her on a case she's handling solo. He's spent the last forty five minutes dodging her ripe silences in between her pointed responses.

"Excuse me?" She says, her dark eyes flicking up, her pixie nose twitching at his outburst.

"Rachel…" He sighs heavily, gathering a modicum of restraint. "I know that you're in a... _position_ , between Me and...I know that you're...not happy with what happened, but,"

"Harvey, _Don't._ " She cuts him off. It's a rare moment of polarity between them, as his gaze lingers on her raised hand. A symbolic gesture of a wall between them. Between him and the rest of them.

He never understood until now, just what a lifeline she had been between him and the world. Like he's been locked in a glass box and she is the filter, passing him air and reducing anything that could hurt him. Keeping him alive. Keeping him afloat in the world. Keeping him protected.

"Don't what?" He frowns, sensing the shift.

"Fine." She sighs, her fingers stretching out to fiddle with paperwork. "The Elephant in the room?" She clarifies. "No, Harvey. I'm not happy with you." She says, her face hardening at the edges, straightening in her seat. She's become something else lately. Something powerful and ammo filled. Bigger than that delicate paralegal without a proper voice. "None of us are happy about Donna leaving." She states. "And I could sit here, and focus on the fact that _you_ are _my Boss_ , and pretend that it's 'just between the two of you', or 'unfortunate circumstances', and 'no one's fault' but...after _certain events_ …. **that**...is," She pauses, drawing in a breath as the truth falls out. " _Not_ how I feel." She admits delicately.

She's so good at pulling strings, as his brows knit together.

"Rach, I" He sputters, suddenly unable to defend himself.

She interrupts his words without a second thought. "Harvey, I've always kept out of yours and Donna's relationship, because _she_...is a very private person when it comes to you, and she's always handled it before, _but_ …" She sighs, her eyes looking about the room for a few moments, before they direct themselves cleanly at him. Dark brown against darker brown. " _She loved you_. And you took her for granted, and worse than that...you didn't just... _tell her that you didn't feel the same way_. You let her think the exact opposite. And now... _ **she's gone**_." She sniffs. "And what you forget in all this, is that...you're not the only one who lost her. **_I_** lost her too." She says, her voice quiet in the wake of it all. "We all did. We've all had to pay for _your_ mistakes."

 _ **We've all had to pay for your mistakes...**_

It's the way she says it. Matter of factly. So delicately and yet so direct an assault.

He feels reduced to a mere asshole. _Taken down by a petite little Associate, fresh out of the bullpen. In one monologue she_ has summed the entire situation _and_ him up in one perfect deduction.

He feels his shoulders slump, any fire abating soon after. He looks down then, his fingers idly playing with the corner of a piece of paper in front of him.

"Rach...I miss her." He mumbles, just loud enough for her to hear.

She softens then, any annoyance dissipating between them and into the air. "I know you do. _We all see it, Harvey._ But if you don't want to be with her...then...you have to swallow that feeling...deep down, and just...move on. _Let her_... **move on**."

He nods fractionally, frozen, feeling overcome by this thoroughly perceptive woman.

 _Rachel doesn't give him a hard time after that._

 _But it doesn't make him miss her any less._

. . . . ….

Within the week, Donna buys a smallish Penthouse on W Diversey Parkway, a strange find, with high ceilings, a mezzanine level and a jarring eighties decor, an ugly parting gift from the previous occupants. She decides that it'll be a fixer-upper, with it's juliette balcony, ample parking - _something she never even considered in New York_ \- and wide open space. She decides that the distasteful primary coloured walls in the lounge, and the light silver carpet in the bedroom and log cabin-esque kitchen cabinets can all be traded in for classic American decor, with a modern twist, and stripped back wooden flooring to accompany a completely new kitchen.

 _She'll bring New York City to Chicago, and live like the young actress in her had always dreamed of._

She's out on the balcony one night, with a thick coat and scarf and a glass of red cradled in her hands, looking out onto the moody Chicago sky, mottled with oranges her hair used to be, competing with the royal blue signature colour of a man she had left behind.

She wonders then,

If heartache is just the body's way of exacting change. Of moving towards new things, rather than feeling the loss of one thing in particular.

It helps, especially when she catches herself delving into old wounds.

. . . ….

 _Harvey Specter is tired._

He needs a vacation.

Of late, he catches himself in the mirror, that tired dryness to his skin, from days of overwork, and little rest. That slightly purple tinge to the tanned skin under his eyes.

He feels it now. Working more than anything else. No boxing. No running. Just...work. And more work on top of that.

Paula's begun to notice. Calls him during the day to make sure that he's taking care of himself.

It's nice. To have someone there.

But it doesn't ease the unsettled feeling in him.

Something is missing. _Someone_ is…

He feels guilt every time that he thinks of her, until Rachel's words shred him a second later, like a well placed scold.

He's never lived so much as a long weekend without her. She's been his constant for nearly fifteen years, and when he boils everything that happened down to one idea, that is the constant within him.

It's been just over three weeks.

And he's starting to feel it.

 _That burn...that sear against his heart._

He wasn't exaggerating when he said that her leaving would cause the firm to break. Mike and Rachel are getting close to their upcoming nuptials. They're talking of a honeymoon, no less than a month off. Both of them... _absent_. Making it he and Louis, to soon be the only ones left.

No Jessica. _And no..._

He couldn't refuse when they had jointly asked, no matter how selfishly he wanted to. They had been through so much over the years. Taken blows and lasted still despite the world's efforts to tear them apart. It was the least that he could do. If nothing, than to keep Rachel from jumping to her father's firm. He got an itch lately, that that was where she was headed. Something digging at him, like hidden information he'd managed to sniff out.

"Harvey?"

Mike's voice is a break between silences, as they are both going through paperwork on a quiet Wednesday evening, glasses scattered about the office, and take-out - _no longer the shitty thai place_ \- long gone cold and spread out around them.

"Have you talked to her?" Mike asks.

"What?" His eyes flick up then, a blank confusion on his preoccupied face.

" **Donna**." He clarifies.

It's a bold move, that causes a pit to drop in his stomach. _No one says that name around him now._ They either don't have the balls, or they can feel how it feels to hear it and know that there's no one around to answer to the name anymore.

His face drops slightly, swallowing as he lifts the pen in his right hand, eyes then dropping fully to the paperwork in front of him.

"What about her," He half replies, refusing to look up at his counterpart.

"Harvey...you can't go on like this forever." He says.

Harvey groans under his breath, straightening with a frustration to meet his friend's cool blue eyes. "Like what, Mike?" He replies heavily, indulging his friend this once, out of courtesy.

"You can't even see it, can you?" He says, matter of factly, huffing in disbelief.

"See what?" He asks, reluctantly.

"You're constantly fidgeting, adjusting your tie and your suit, as if you're conscious that someone's going to notice that you're not dealing very well. Even though, none of us mention it, because we all know that you'll deny it anyway."

"Mike," He huffs, dropping the paperwork in his lap.

"And the only person who would notice things like that - in a heartbeat - isn't here anymore."

"It's Paula, okay." He blurts out, his voice flying across the room.

"What about her?" Mike frowns, seeming to adjust to new information.

"She...notices...that I'm not...that I'm...I don't know…" He sighs, wrestling with the words. " _Preoccupied_ , I guess." He huffs. " **With work**." He adds, clearing his throat.

"Like Donna used to," Mike observes.

"Mike," He says, his eyes flashing with that darker note of warning.

"Harvey," Mike adjusts in his seat, a pointed look on his face. "This may come as a shock to you, but you're...not preoccupied _with_ _**work**_." He says. "You're using work as an excuse." He states. "And I'd expect that out of everyone, you'd have the balls to tell me." He says. "But I figured that you were worried that whatever you told me, I'd tell Rachel, and then she'd tell Donna, and then you'd have to admit the real reason you're distracted all the time."

"What do you want from me?" He shrugs defensively.

"You miss Donna." He states.

"You think I don't know that, Mike?" He remarks heavily, his pitch raising slightly as the papers in his lap make a snapping sound, as his hand drops onto them.

"Then why don't you call her?"

It rings in his ears, the words. Like something she's said to him a hundred times. It sends a streak of something dark and slightly sad to creep through his stomach.

 _~Why don't you just call her, Harvey?~ That wonderful tone, so caring and considerate and selfless as she waits for his reply._

It's enough to evoke the memory of her, all at once swelling out and into the room. It's like her name is etched in the glass walls, and burnt into the carpet. Woven into the furniture and hidden between every record on every shelf.

His eyes flit about the room for a moment, as a thought occurs.

 _Her fingerprints must be over every single thing in his office. Over every office he's ever had. Over his clothes, and stationery and..._

"Harvey? Why? Why haven't you called her?" Mike presses.

"Because your fiancee warned me not to!" He says, a flash in his eyes enough to give Mike the whole picture and mess of things.

"Why not?"

" _It doesn't matter._ " He says, shaking his head in weak protest, trying to shrug off this third degree.

"Harvey…"

He sighs, heavier this time, his lungs feeling overly weighted in the effort to breathe, as if the words are hanging off of his rib cage and threatening to pull him under.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore." He says. "I can't."

It's an alien response for both of them.

And the look that his best friend gives him only confirms for him,

 _That Harvey Specter is beginning to completely unravel._

. . …..

Donna's calls with Rachel are different. She loves her, completely. But there is something in the words that she says, that now have a lingering subtext to them. Before, Rachel was a shoot from the hip kind of girl. Now...she skirts over the subject, and yet seems to drop little crumbs every now and then. Mostly about one man in particular. One that isn't her husband-to-be.

 _She's pieced together a few things so far._

 _Harvey isn't doing well._

 _Mike_ is trying to hit as many balls out of the court as he can before they head off on their honeymoon.

 _Louis_ is preoccupied with Sheila.

The firm is generally unsettled.

And Rachel is picking up all missing pieces in her absence.

All when she should be focused on her upcoming nuptials.

 _One day, she finds herself saying it._

 ** _"Rach, you know it's not your job…"_** _Donna reminds her._

It takes a second for her to acknowledge the words, and their intended meaning.

"I know...I'm...just keeping things going until you get back."

It hurts more than Harvey's stubbornness. Her childlike notion that like a mother she'll come home one day and save them all.

"Rach," She sighs, bending the phone into the crook of her neck. "I'm not coming back this time." She tells her.

They share the longest silence of their entire friendship.

She waits for Rachel to be the one to speak. "You'll be back for my wedding though, right?" She asks, the subtle claw of tears in her friend's throat.

"Of course I will. I'm maid of honor, silly." She says, feeling her breath hitch in her chest. "And what is a bride without her trusty maid of honor." She jokes.

She hears Rachel laugh through a watery sob. It pains her to hear such a thing.

 _"Good." Rachel sniffs._

 _"Good." Donna smiles._

. . . ...

The conversation keeps her mind roped in thought, turning like two sides of a coin, until one day, Jessica calls into her office.

"You wanted to see me?" She asks, looking to her Boss from the frame of the door. There is no glass in this building. Chicago is about solid walls and an even more solid future.

"This is...an _awkward question_." Jessica begins, her voluptuous pout bending slightly as she gestures for Donna to take a seat.

She frowns, bending in her Alice and Oliver A-line dress, a wave of sky blue ruffles at the hem as she sits.

"Is this about my work?" She asks directly.

Jessica gives her a look. She matches it in a second, with a growing sigh and and rubbing frustration.

 _They both know what its really about._

"What about him?" Donna offers, her eyes narrowing.

"Harvey...called me last night." Jessica offers.

"Right," She nods, letting her Boss continue and ignoring the tightness in her chest, that his name causes.

"Asking... _to speak to you_. Apparently, he's tried calling you directly, but he's not getting a reply. He wanted to know if you'd changed cell phones?"

"Oh. So after all this time he's finally remembered my number?" She remarks, the sharpness of wit lost in the heaviness of fact and a spikier reaction.

"Donna." Jessica admonishes gently, her chin lowering to give the redhead a pointed look.

"Sorry," She sighs. " _This_ is _not_ your problem. I'm sorry he involved you." She says, earnestly.

"I'm not worried about that. I actually asked you in here because I... _wanted to know how you were doing_."

"I'm...settling in well, thank you." She says, her heaviness lifting in favour of a small smile of gratitude. "Operations are...different here. But...I'm catching up." She resolves.

She sees it in the woman's change of posture. _She's not asking about work._

"Donna, you know I didn't mean the job. You're...overqualified for your position here and underpaid in comparison to what Harvey paid you." She smirks.

"You knew about that?" She frowns. It's never occurred to her to think about Jessica in all of that.

"It was his only condition, Donna." She divulges. "He agreed for your salary to come out of his own, and I agreed to never tell you." She smiles oddly.

Donna feels herself falter then, bending against the urge to slump in defeat. Jessica catches the tail end of the impulse, but doesn't question it.

"I gave you a job because you asked for an 'out'. You've done alot for that firm and for me and especially Harvey, so...if you're not going to work _there_ , then I couldn't let the chance for you to work here slip through my fingers now, could I?" She smirks once more, that luscious pout of hers heart shaped and all at once candid looking in her response.

"Thank you Jessica." Donna says, softening. "I appreciate that. It's nice to have people recognise your worth. And I'm...dealing." She admits. "I am."

"You are worth more to Harvey than he's ready to admit right now." The older woman promises.

 _It's a wonderful sentiment. A year ago it may have soothed her. But not now. Not after everything._

She looks down, gathering her natural impulse to lean on such words in favour of a harder quality.

"Harvey made his decision. I'm done with getting blindsided by his notion of where I sit in his life." She tells the woman. "I'm not waiting for him to be ready anymore."

A look passes between them. _A measuring of her intention_ , she wagers.

"Okay then." Jessica nods finally, the curve of so many meanings etched in her voice. "I'll tell him not to call you."

"Thank you." She says, realising just what she's set in motion.

. . . ...

A couch, is what really sets everything home.

And it's silly, really. A couch. A place for you to sit, it couldn't possibly change the way you view a place.

But somehow, _it does._

An American fern green chesterfield three-seater couch, with a heavy woven tan coloured throw and two deliberately lumpy cream cushions make her lounge look the part. Serene and adult and perfect, in her now moody burnt orange and black painted walls.

She had dabbled with the idea, worrying about the intensity, until the decorator had left her with a room filled with new possibilities. She spent a full weekend picking out black and white artworks, large monochrome pieces of abstract work to fill the walls - having kept her old apartment with a view to renting or airbnb'ing the place on the days that she didn't visit the city, it meant that she had an entire apartment to decorate and furnish. Or to a standard where it was at least liveable.

Her mother always told her that the lounge was the heart of the home, and now, with the fire on and the couch now delivered and placed in front of it, even with the oak cabinets peering out from the kitchen and stark white framed windows out onto the porch, the place was starting to look a little more like home with each passing day.

The only think offsetting these developments with a heaviness, was Rachel and Mike's Wedding.

It was only one week away.

And she wished it wasn't making her so anxious.

.. . . ….

 _Your name fizzes on my tongue  
oh your name, it fizzes on my tongue  
damn that name_  
-Goji Berry Sunset, By Jealous of Birds

. . . ….

"Harvey?"

He barely hears the distinctly english voice of the woman sat beside him, until the second time it rings out his name.

"Sorry? What?" He blinks, looking over at two intrigued blues.

"You keep going somewhere. Something on your mind?" His girlfriend asks.

He sighs, looking ahead and out of her direct gaze.

 _That's one way of putting it..._

"No...just a case." He says, shrugging off the question. "There's a lot going on at work, Paula. You know that." He reminds her.

"Hmm," He hears her hum irritably, moving from his side.

"What?" He frowns.

He watches as Paula moves to a stand in front of him. "Before... _maybe_. Now, I'm not so sure."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" He bites, a reliable sharpness finding him. He's starting to grow tired of problems between them. _He thought that after Donna_...

"Look, Harvey. I know that after what happened, that you would throw yourself into your work. I accepted that that's just who you are. But this has gone on long enough." She says, folding her arms against herself.

"What are you talking about?" He remarks, squinting.

She laughs to herself, shaking her head at his response. "You're really going to make me spell it out for you? After everything _that woman_ did to hurt our relationship?" She shakes her head at the concept. _"I_ have to be the one to point out that you've not been yourself since Donna left?"

"Paula," He warns, his jaw stiffening at her harsh use of such a name. "It's not that. I told you… _ **work** is_-"

"You're lying to me, Harvey. And you know it." She tells him, planting the words as fact. "She's not the only one who can read you, you know." She bites.

 _He shakes his head. This is the last thing in the world that he needs._

She softens then, feeling her own words cut. "It's okay to miss her, Harvey." She says, looking down at him.

 _But it's too late._

Something's already scratched at him.

He looks up at her, making to stand. "Then why do you give me such a hard time about it?" He asks darkly, stalking past her, not waiting for a reply. _He knows how to cut back just as deep._

"Because you're not supposed to miss her this much!" She calls after him, exasperated and desperate sounding in one long wave.

He turns back around, directing his gaze towards her then, spotting the fear in her eyes. The possibilities flying around in her head.

"Paula...we worked together for over a decade. She was my assistant...my friend, and I-"

"When are you going to get it into your head, that this...and _her_...has nothing to do with work." She snaps at him. "Or being friends, for that matter. It's more than that and you know it." She accuses.

"Paula, _I_."

"I thought I could do this but you're...you're," She pauses, overcome by her own thoughts. "It's like you're...paralysed without her constant presence."

He shakes his head. He wants to object. He wants to tell her something to the contrary, built upon a certainty that he can measure without a doubt.

But he can't.

He just...he misses **_her_**.

"You can't tell me that it's okay to miss her, and then accuse me of missing her too much." He fires at the petite blonde.

"No." She sighs, looking about herself. "Maybe I can't. But I also can't stand by and watch a man that I'm...potentially falling in love with, mourn a woman that he assured me he didn't want like that." She says, marching across his lounge.

"Paula," He says, following her then. Yet more guilt falling in spades around him. "I…"

He watches as she gathers her bag and coat, his lame attempt at stopping her thwarted by her gaze. "I can't keep doing this with you, Harvey."

"Paula. Don't leave." He says, his voicing whining in frustration.

"Figure out how you feel about her, and soon." She demands. "Because I'm not stepping one more foot in this apartment until you do." She says, gesturing only to further solidify her point.

He follows her to the door, the truth flowing like a moat around him.

He doesn't stop her leaving.

Because she's right.

What he'll do with information, he's unsure.

 _ **After all, he already tried to convince Donna...once...**_

And look how that turned out.

. . . . .

 _My heart is yours_

 _It's you that I hold on to_

 _That's what I do_

 _And I know I was wrong_

 _But I won't let you down_

 _(Oh yeah, yeah, yes I will)_

 _Sparks By Coldplay_

 _. . ..._


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Notes: I've always seen Harvey Specter as the man that Lana Del Rey talks about in a lot of her songs. This chapter has pepperings of her song lyrics. I'm not going to use the events that we know are happening in 7.13, just because where's the fun in that? This is my alternative take on the end few episodes. Let's hope we get an amazing Darvey development this season, because God knows we need it...

. . . ...

 **Chapter Two**

… …. . . .

 _ **Kiss me hard before you go**_

 _ **Summertime sadness**_

 _ **I just wanted you to know**_

 _ **That baby, you the best….**_

. . . . .

 ***~Two Weeks Previous~***

… _.I guess this is the perfect time to tell you...that when I kissed you, I finally knew why I'd spent all those years beside you. Why I stayed. I lied, Harvey. **I** __**did feel something. Maybe more than even I knew**_ _. Maybe I'd felt it for a very long time. And when you began to kiss me back, I knew that it was too much. You were with Paula. And I'm sorry for that. For risking your relationship just to figure that out. I just never counted on it ever affecting you, too. And now...it doesn't matter I guess. I hope you chose well, Harvey, and I hope she makes you happy. I really do. Just be happy. I only ever wanted the best for you. But it's too much for me to stay. Jessica has offered me an 'out'. I'm taking it._

 _All my love,_

 _Donna ~_

 _ **...I lied...**_

Harvey had almost blacked out, running along the edges of autopilot. Sharp and direct in his pursuit. To the elevator. To the cab. To the airport. Paying the cab driver, he pressed forward, her letter in his hand the entire way there. Half an hour ticked by in sheer seconds until his eyes had glazed over at the large suspended table of flight numbers, yellow dots, an assortment of words and letters and status updates that scrambled in his mind. He struggled to see clearly until he got to the barrier, a ticket to somewhere unrelated hanging in his other hand.

 _It was only when he ran to the gate, his heartbeat faltering, staring eyes wide at the empty gate. His eyes flicked to the large windows, a plane taking off into the night sky._

 _It had left, taking Donna Paulsen with it._

 _ **Twelve hours... the concept flicked through his mind on repeat.**_

It would take only two hours, maybe three with check in, but it's already half past nine, and in all honesty, he _needs_ this. He needs to move forward, and keep moving before he gets too scared. Before she begins to hate him. Before it's _really_ too late.

His hands flick down to his phone, automatically fishing it out of his pocket.

Just twelve hours, and at this time of night...with barely anyone on the roads.

He could...pick up a car,

And then just... _go_.

 _A straight line, from New York straight through to Pennslyvania, Ohio, and then onto Chicago._

He'd be in the windy city, before the work day had even warmed up. Before she had even settled into the city.

Of course, flying, meant he could sleep some, recharge his batteries. But he had to get to her. Too late seemed too rash, and too early would mean he'd hit her fury head on.

And what the hell would sleep really do? He was too wired, too anxious. He knows how that would end...with him, slightly drunk on airplane booze, crashing Jessica's place at some god forsaken hour, demanding an address so he could wake up someone even less deserving of the intrusion. He'd already hurt her past the point that he worried they could never come back from. So he has to do this right. He's never felt like this before, so on edge and anxious and impatient. Suddenly every single thing in his life has forced itself out of the way, leaving him at the epicentre, staring at the slowly fading image of the woman that he had lost from his life for the third time in his life.

He hails a cab from JFK and stuffs the white envelope into his pocket.

When the wind hits his knuckles, the cool breeze flying past his cheekbones, he knows he made the right choice. The perfect choice.

It always _was_ her favourite.

Copper tinged.

Classic.

Priceless.

. . . . .

 _ **I drive fast, wind in my hair, push it to the limits 'cause I just don't care**_

 _ **I've got a burning desire for you, baby**_

 _ **(I've got a burning desire)**_

 _ **I'm driving fast, flash, everyone knows it**_

 _ **I'm trying to get to you, baby**_

 _ **I'm feeling scared and you know it**_

 _ **. . . . .**_

The open road emerges quicker than he had anticipated. Thank god he hadn't drunk a thing all night, or else he'd really be dicing with the bad side of the coin.

The lights are few in between towns, Teterboro airport and Willbrook racing past his vision in a blur. He doesn't acknowledge the road signs until the i80 turns into the i90 and Whiskeyville pops up on the sat nav. _He could use a drink, a little something to abate the adrenaline coursing with a perplexity through his frayed nerves._

But then again maybe it was the adrenaline that was keeping him upright. Keeping him going. Of course, in truth, it's her that keeps him on course. The last time he had seen her, so angry and overcome, asking him, nay, pleading with him to fight for her. To put her first once more. He should have seen that moment for what it was. Instead, he had been blinded by her lie. _One of many_. He shakes the thought from his mind. He can't be mad, really. She was the one thing in the world that kept him sane, and level and true. She kept him honest. She would be the only redhead to ever orbit his world and there was a very strict and simple reason for that.

He thought he'd made things so clear…

He shakes the idea from his mind, hating himself in one fail swoop. He had been an asshole for so long, misunderstanding her. Her every word, her every ideal. All she ever wanted was for him to be happy and loved, as she watched from afar… and so bittersweet that all the time he had been trying to swallow the feeling of wanting her… all the questions and insinuations and responses she had missed, _and how exactly?_

Was it the case that he was...far, far more subtle with her than he had ever fully considered?

And yet every moment, had felt like his heart was open against a knife. Like her eyes could bore into him and pick out every single truth that his heart could offer.

Could it be that the one thing she couldn't see the truth of, was him? Was how he felt about her? How _much_ he felt about her?

It panics him further, his foot pressing firmly against the accelerator as he sees 'Toledo Express Airport' flash past his peripheries.

His eyes are like two beads of subtly sparkling onyx in the dark.

. . . ...

 _ **Don't break me down**_

 _ **I've been travelin' too long**_

 _ **I've been trying too hard**_

 _ **With one pretty song**_

 **I hear the birds on the summer breeze,**

 **I drive fast, I am alone in midnight**

 **Been tryin' hard not to get into trouble,**

 **But I, I've got a war in my mind**

 **So, I just ride, just ride,**

 **I just ride, just ride**

 **. . ...**

He hits some bad weather into Michigan, engaging the roof in a daze. It hasn't been as bad as he'd imagined, pumped full of adrenaline and a half dozen drive-thru coffees on the way, have him very much with his eye on the ball. He could do that. Fitness and endurance had always been his strength. Much to his detriment, he realises. He had been bitter, and held it, never realising where it came from. Every push, every nudge of hers towards another woman, had only made him more stubborn. Scottie, Zoe, _Esther_. The pressing… It had all culminated in this bitter resentful note in his head that she had just been placed beside him to torture him, to press him into these relationships, and yet, whenever he'd asked about her, about her picture in all of this she immediately deflected. She balked for the hills, until the one moment he'd finally given up trying to understand her and then...there she was, suddenly in his office, her head turning at why he had left her apartment in haste...

He had left that night, to offset a whim. Of course he had wanted to sleep with her...she had been sat there, satin clad, with a plunging neckline, them both swimming in relief and red wine and of course he had wanted to kiss her. He had looked at her lips, slightly glossed and red wine tinged, and in that moment he had wanted to press her into the formative line of the couch and do what his instincts and heart had told him to do, but... _how was he to know?_ How was he to know that she had wanted more in that moment? She'd spent a decade dating other men and pushing him towards other women...how was he to know that she suddenly wanted him for more than a simple exaltation? For more than a flippant relief of that one situation?

 **How,**

 **Was he to know?**

 _And then…._

She Left.

And his world turned to darkness and shame and panic and resentment.

Paula had picked him out of stubborn refusal and a dark cloud.

He had been wrong. Admittedly… but he had also been longing.

For the one woman in the world who had left him. And instead of explaining herself. Instead of giving some part of herself over to him, she had told him that she loved him, and then walked away from them.

What was he to do with that, past the anger and the confusion, except grasp for straws and hope that he could still keep her in some semblance of his world? She had all but exiled herself from his kingdom, only to betray him in the worse kind of way.

Would she have found what they had had, with Louis? _Honestly?_

It had taken Paula to realise that that idea, in and of itself was wrong. That that kind of idea in his head was unhealthy, and restricting. But now...now he knew only one thing.

That what he felt back then trumps all coherent reason now.

He loves her, immeasurably, it seems.

His world isn't whole without her.

And now,

 _He is coming to collect. In full._

 _. . . . ..._

 ** _Down on the west coast,_**

 ** _They got this sayin'_**

 ** _"If you're not drinkin', then you're not playin'"_**

 ** _But you've got the music_**

 ** _You've got the music in you, don't you?_**

 ** _Down on the West coast, I get this feeling like_**

 ** _It all could happen,_ _that's why I'm leaving_**

 ** _You for the moment, you for the moment_**

 ** _You're falling hard, I push away, I'm feelin' hot to the touch_**

 ** _You say you miss me and I wanna say I miss you so much_**

 ** _But something keeps me really quiet, I'm alive, I'm a lush_**

 ** _Your love, your love, your love_**

 _. . . ._

His brain fully wakes up to farmland, Indiana, the amber stream of light piercing through mottled blue cloud over the outskirts of Gary. He's refuelled at least five times now, every time the promise of a little extra mile for the gallon. He had begun to understand the night, in all it's quiet and reverence. But the day… The day, is like a blank canvas.

His Mother found promise in such a thing.

But for him...it terrifies him.

. . .

 ** _I've seen the world, done it all_**

 ** _Had my cake now_**

 ** _Diamonds, brilliant, in Bel-Air now_**

 ** _Hot summer nights, mid July_**

 ** _When you and I were forever wild_**

 ** _The crazy days, city lights_**

 ** _The way you'd play with me like a child_**

 ** _Will you still love me_**

 ** _When I'm no longer young and beautiful?_**

 ** _Will you still love me_**

 ** _When I've got nothing but my aching soul?_**

 ** _I know you will, I know you will_**

 ** _I know that you will_**

 ** _Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful?_**

 ** _I've seen the world, lit it up..._**

 _. . . . . ._

He knows he's finally hit Chicago, when the tone changes, from beat up trucks and cropped farmland into an urban concrete jungle of sorts, emerging slowly with every passing mile, dozens of chrome pylons streaking into the sky, the grass short and corn-tinged in colour against a greyish sky. More lorries and heavier set cars overtake his slightly slower pace. He frowns, pressing his foot on the accelerator once more. Chicago isn't the most obviously beautiful city. He's sure it has it's charm, in a way, but the idea of Donna remaining here seems disjointed somehow. _Chicago is no destination for a woman like her._ She is Manhattan through and through. _Like him._ He swallows a lump in his throat, guilt starting to seep in at the chain reaction that has settled unnaturally around him.

Wolf Lake Memorial Park springs out and around him, as he continues along the i90. He stops at the Toll Bridge, a row of unmanned concrete buildings halting his journey. He rolls down the window to slot some spare change into the yellow machine to his right, sighing at the action as the wind hits his face with a sharpness.

It's Official. _He has made it to Chicago._

He sets off again, his attention flicking to the rear view mirror. He frowns, observing the red rings around his eyes that are slightly puffy, with a blue tinge framed underneath them, and his hair slightly askew where he's rubbed it in frustration at various stages of the night. Teamed with the five o'clock shadow on his jawline, it's clear that he isn't himself. _How can he be..._

She is the only one he'd lose his shit over. The only one who can pull at him. With her, _it was different._ It _is_ different.

Suddenly he spots the eight thirty six on his watch. He is behind schedule. He has to press on.

Only half an hour to go.

. . . . ..

 ** _Feet don't fail me now_**  
 ** _Take me to your finish line_**  
 ** _Oh my heart it breaks every step that I take_**  
 ** _But I'm hoping that the gates, they'll tell me that you're mine_**  
 ** _Walking through the city streets_**  
 ** _Is it by mistake or design?_**  
 ** _I feel so alone on a Friday night_**  
 ** _Can you make it feel like home if I tell you you're mine?_**  
 ** _It's like I told you, honey_**

 ** _Don't make me sad, don't make me cry_**  
 ** _Sometimes love is not enough and the road gets tough, I don't know why_**  
 ** _Keep making me laugh_**  
 ** _Let's go get high_**  
 ** _The road is long, we carry on_**  
 ** _Try to have fun in the meantime_**

. . . . ..

Donna Paulsen wakes up with nagging feeling in her gut, that's only partially overtaken by the unnatural spring in her step.

She had run away. She'd left _him_ and all of them behind.

It had been deliberate, and unnatural, and therefore an unknown quantity in her mind.

But it is enough to give her a fresh start.

Jessica has been..well. Jessica. A woman of finite meanings but very few words.

She had welcomed Donna with open arms the night before, promising a different role and an entirely different experience, but one that would never make her feel less than her worth. But something has still caught at the redhead. As if the older woman knew somehow. As if she had been privy to the events in her life, when she had touched down, sealing this life altering change.

She sips at her takeaway coffee in the cab ride over from her hotel to Jessica's building on the corner of West Washington Street, and North Le Salle, the anticipation of change brewing in her gut.

The cab slows against the curb, as she pays the driver, opening the door to plant one high-heel against the dirty sidewalk. She looks up at very different building, brownstone, understated, serious.

She reminds herself.

That this city and this building are her home now.

 _. . . . . ._

 ** _Baby, you're no good for me_**

 ** _You're no good for me_**

 ** _But baby, I want you, I want_**

 ** _Diet mountain dew, baby, New York City_**

 ** _Never was there ever a girl so pretty_**

 ** _Do you think we'll be in love forever?_**

 ** _Do you think we'll be in love?_**

… _. ._

He had managed to park around the corner, knowing the address from a text Jessica had given him a few months back. A sheer jolt of luck in his favour, as he marches towards building of 30 North La Salle.

He frowns, ignoring the staunch brownstone and its tall, almost stubborn ascent into the sky.

 _This isn't her home_ , he thinks gruffly to himself.

He relaxes slightly, as he enters the lobby, streaking through the lobby and into the elevator, glancing only briefly at the 'Pearson & Malone' listed for the Twentieth Floor. The elevator ride is slow, and not seamless like in his own building. He frowns again, heavier this time, straightening at the impatience that starts to grow. Feelings start to force their way to the surface as the elevator doors open. He glides out of the doors, meeting a reception, simple and monotoned.

He pauses, the flash of red streaking across his eye.

He half-smiles to himself, expelling a sigh that seems to shed all reservation in his mind.

She is here.

 _In front of him._

Her red hair curled and faultless against the passing air.

She is dressed in a streak of white and black.

Her eyes wide and surprised as she stops, dead in her tracks against the sheer sight of him.

. . . .

 ** _Because I'm crazy, baby_**

 ** _I need you to come here and save me_**

 ** _I'm your little scarlet starlet_**

 ** _Singing in the garden_**

 ** _Kiss me on my open mouth_**

 ** _Ready for you_**

. . . . ..

He quirks his eyebrow, trying at some semblance of the old them.

She frowns, looking down at her hands.

His teeth clench together in disappointment, yet still, against the sound of his heart, the beats slightly unsteady as he levels a slow and reeling breath.

Just as she starts to turn he breaks out of his stillness, taking a step towards her, as people, also grey and slightly tilted against the early hour and his lack of sleep wander around them, like schools of fish.

 _Nobody knows them here. Here, they have no reputation._

"Donna," He says, his eye charted a course he has no real business following.

Her words come like a well rehearsed defence. "If you're here to ask me to come back to work with you, the answer is **_no_** , Harvey...and... _how dare you_." She reams off, her words hardening against the sheer sigh of him.

"I'm….not," He grabs her hand, pulling her out of her own focus and closer to him as he lowers his volume. "Donna...you left, _just like that_...and _I_ …."

"I told you Harvey, I can't do this anymore. And what Jessica's offered me...it gives me a chance to start over. I ha-"

" ** _Is that what you really want_**?" He presses, interrupting her. "To start over?" He frowns, frustration and tiredness setting in.

She huffs, straightening. "Harvey...since when has it mattered to you what I really want?" She plants, lifting an eyebrow.

He double takes. " _Are you kidding me_?" He says, his pitch raising instantly.

"Harvey. I am not doing this with you, right now. This is my _first_ day." She stresses, looking around them both.

"Meet me...at lunch?" He says tiredly, irritation grinding the gears in his voice as he thinks about the possibility of sleep impending.

He sees the wheels turn in her mind, that indent of a frown matching his.

He takes her silence for a conformation. "I'll text you where I am." He tells her, a heavy tone clapping down on his words. "If you don't show," He warns.

"I don't know when I'll be available." She says stubbornly, straightening in the highest heels he's every seen her wear. So high she almost towers half an inch above him like Jessica used to.

He's ashamed to admit how it makes him feel like a little boy.

"I mean it." He insists boldly, before turning on his heel, his hands clenching into fists.

He has to leave now, before he doesn't something he'll regret later.

. . . . .

Donna's mind is reeling from his sudden appearance. She should never have discounted the possibility of his arrival so soon after her departure. It's typically him - impulsive and riding on his emotions in times of stress. If she were honest with herself, she would have expected him to have touched down last night and come crawling. He is the inevitable man-child of his upbringing. This is essentially him, throwing his toys out of the pram, because she's chosen, _once again_ , to put herself first, and over him.

It only cements in her mind, that Chicago is the best choice she could have ever made.

She doesn't tell her new boss of her old Bosses appearance,

Hoping that his arrival in Chicago has gone - _as yet_ \- unnoticed.

... . . .

She frowns after Jessica offers her a long lunch to get acclimated with her new surroundings, the message from Harvey having been sent around eleven am and blaring in neon lights against the home screen of her cellphone.

She reluctantly hails a cab, crossing north and over the DuSable bridge to the Peninsula Hotel. As the cab pulls up to valet, she gets out, paying the driver and ignores the rather beautiful facade. _It's regal and typically Harvey_ , she thinks to herself, as she crosses the threshold, making her way straight to the elevator. She draws in a breath, their last conversation turning over in her mind. She doesn't allow the questions to surface in her mind.

She's made her decision. There is no going back. _She's just paying the piper, is all._

. . . . . .

His eyes snap open, his mind foggy when he hears the knock at the door. He looks about himself, shirt crumpled and suit pants messy as he clambers off of the bed and makes his way to the door. There isn't time fix himself.

He opens the door, his feelings branching in two as he witnesses Donna, crisp, tidy, elegant and reluctantly at the door.

She gives him a look of frustration, barging past him, muttering something akin to ' _Let's get this over with_ ," as he slams the door behind them both.

She turns on the spot, placing her bag onto a nearby chair.

"What are you doing here, Harvey?" She fires at him, like a thoroughbred straight out of the gate

"Donna. You can't just leave." He says.

"Funny. As that is _exactly_ what happened." She remarks, all sharp angles and resentment.

It rises his ire, as he looks at her, ignoring the emotion in her eyes, almost so full they could drown him in one. "So...you've moved to Chicago, then?" He says boldly, almost too casually considering the circumstances.

"I told you. I needed a clean break." She states, her voice thin as she folds her arms to cement her point.

"Donna," He says her name, swallowing thickly.

"Don't Donna me, Harvey. You made your choice, _and now_...I've made mine." She says.

"I didn't expect you to leave the state!" He barks.

Her eyes widen then. _Is it possible that this man is completely dumb to the facts?_ "So...you expect me to stay working with someone, who's chosen his girlfriend's wish to stay away from me, when we work in offices NEXT to one another?" She counters, the level in her voice rising to match his.

He frowns, fishing for the thoroughly crumpled letter in his breast pocket and shoving it into the space between them. "No, Donna. I expected that you would at least tell me to my face. Not leave me a god damned letter as a parting gift and jump on the next plane out of JFK!"

"Tell you _what_ exactly? That I felt something? That I might have spent my entire life wasting opportunities to be happy, just to find out that the man _I thought might_ -," She pauses, bailing on the words in her mouth. "The man I thought I could count on couldn't even find it in himself to put me _first_." She says, grimacing.

Her words sting, and alert him and he's so confused right now couldn't count to ten if someone asked him.

"Donna, **she's my girlfriend**." He reminds her, heavily. " ** _I_**..." He pauses, the thought immediately draining the blood out of his face. _Paula_. He'd...forgotten about... He closes his eyes for a second, cursing his bad luck and addled state.

She double takes, the words knitting together. "Wait a second... you jumped on a flight out of Chicago, and not only does she have no idea you're here, but she's actually _still_ your girlfriend?"

"I drove," He offers limply. "I..." He pauses, realisation dawning on him.

Her eyes widen, the information collecting in her mind with every second of silence.

She gathers herself finally, a held expression on her face. "Well….Harvey, _This_..." She gestures around them. "Is the outcome of your decisions." She says bitter-sweetly. "Deal with it."

He frowns, hit by the full force of her words.

She begins to move to the door, as his hand reaches out, clasping around hers. It's cool to the touch and silky smooth and it terrifies him just as much as it excited him. Her eyes flick to his then, livid, and shaken by his action. She seems to take one moment too long to rip her hand out of his grasp.

" **Don't call me. Don't write. Don't ask Jessica where I am and do not show up at my door because I _won't_ open it**." She demands cleanly, every word cutting just enough.

He frowns, the pit of his stomach dropping several floors. " _ **Donna**_ ," He manages through gritted teeth.

"We're done, Harvey." She half smiles, something unnatural and bitter-tinged. "Tell Paula she gets you _**all**_ to herself." She says, disappearing behind the door in a flash of red and a click.

It takes two seconds for the bile to creep up this throat, before he has to sprint to the bathroom, releasing the last twelve hours from his mind.

He peers, blurry-eyed into the soiled toilet bowl, flashes of red caught in his mind, and his heart caught in his chest like cooked liver in branches.

 _He hadn't said a thing he wanted to. Not a thing he'd planned._

And once again, of course, she is right.

He'd completely forgotten about Paula, in all of this.

 ** _His girlfriend._ **Expecting him to be at her door...tonight.

 _He sleeps the day away in Chicago, texting Paula to reschedule before he drives back to the only city that would have him._

 _All he can think of, is how he'd done everything backwards, and how he had missed his chance now._

 _She was moving past him._

 _And before he'd had the chance to tell her that he loved her._

Completely.

. . . . . . ...

 ** _Harvey's in the sky with diamonds_**  
 ** _And it's making me crazy_**  
 ** _All he wants to do is party with his pretty baby_**

. . . . .. .. . . .


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Notes: Huge HUGE Thank you to everyone who has already reviewed. Been busting my ass on this as I wrote the conclusion before Part Three. I have Part Four in it's nearness, so I'll be posting tomorrow, probably not so far away from the new episode. Namaste Lovelies… A x_

. . . ….

 **Chapter 3**

. . . ...

 _ **If only, I could talk to you**_

 _ **I do not know the words I'd choose**_

 _ **How I could say**_

 _ **I miss you**_

 _ **Would you be as I always knew?**_

 _ **Oh, would our words have pushed through**_

 _ **And change you, and I need you**_

 _ **I need you**_

 _ **I'll swim**_

 _ **Swim**_

 _ **To you**_

 ** _'Swim' By Douglas Dare_**

. . . …..

 _It's summer, and the sky is covered in fluffy cushions of magnolia clouds and the closing golden rays of a sunset and somehow he's feels so much younger than she would ever know him as being, and yet she is barely younger than he remembers, seemingly ageless, her hair falling between his fingers like sunlit maple syrup and their lips and teeth colliding in between the sounds of their voices, liquid and filled to the brim with enjoyment, laughter, and entertainment at one another. She has her thick bangs, just like he remembers, brushing against his nose, but his hair is slightly longer, longer than she would have ever seen, except in pictures. He's smirking against her skin, his lips dragging to her neck, and their knees knocking together in their seated position as he sucks on the soft skin there, knowing how she loves the sensation._

" _Harvey," She manages, her voice light and aerated._

" _Don't ask me to stop," He moans against her, his lips sliding up to the spot behind her ear. He doesn't want to stop. He doesn't think that he ever could stop..._

 _She pulls away from him, and suddenly she looks older. Her bangs gone, hair darker and her face more serious, clad in a dress he's sure he's seen her wear once before. The sun seems to set around them into a starless sky, stark in contrast._

 _He frowns in confusion._

" _But Harvey, don't you know?" She says, her hand sliding up to his face, a pained expression fleeting across her features. "We never really started in the first place…_

He wakes with a start, panting and clammy, sitting up against the subtle greys of the rising morning. He coughs a sigh, rubbing at his face, his eyes darting to the other side of the bed, and all at once relieved that Paula is not there to witness his bold unrest.

 _He needs to get his shit together._

 _He can't keep going on like this._

 _. . ..._

He pulls on a stray sweater, and leaves his apartment, taking the first run he has in weeks. The cold wind hits his face as he nears the park, springtime finally catching up with itself in a blossom of flowers and the spring green bud of new beginnings. He thinks of _her_ when he spots Cherry blossoms, ripe in their bloom, so imposing and yet so delicate.

 **' _I'm human Donna, what do you think it did to me?'_**

His mind wanders to that night…

 _Him, walking in with the strict purpose of telling her about Jessica. He hadn't noticed her unrest, that expression that his mind that seems to have filed away especially for him, to agonize over much later. He had been so focused on the news, on Jessica being disbarred that he had been completely shocked when she stalked purposely towards him, her chest banging against his enough to unsettle his heart, her arms flying into the air like a phoenix only to plant herself on him, wrapping around his shoulders, her lips slipping so tentatively against his. She had fit so perfectly, no knocking of noses or cheeks. She had just slid against him like a missing piece, her cheeks cool and her lips a touch salty - from crying, he now realises - and slightly desperate, her left hand wrapping around the nape of his neck. It was so quick an action from beginning to end, and yet his shock had folded down, compacted into a potent need so accurate, a shiver in his chest splintering inside him as he had lent into the need, everything except his lips had frozen against her action like a teenager witnessing his first pang of love. And then she had just...pulled away, her right fingernails dragging against his skin, like a memory lost between them, an 'I'm sorry, Harvey' snapping him clean in two, dragging him unwillingly out of their moment and into the cold harsh light of their circumstances._

She only ever said sorry when she was leaving him.

" _I just had to know_."

 _Know_ that she wasn't in love with him?

No.

 _Know that she was...that they had been...perhaps they had always..._

He keeps running, the memory turning over like a tangerine and navy marble in his mind, his deductions mere flippers in the pinball machine.

 _Tonight_ is the rehearsal dinner.

 _And he still hasn't told Paula..._

. . . ...

 ** _Diet mountain dew, baby, New York City_**

 ** _Never was there ever a girl so pretty_**

 ** _Do you think we'll be in love forever?_**

 ** _Do you think we'll be in love?_**

 ** _Diet mountain dew, baby, New York City_**

 ** _Can we hit it now low down and gritty_**

 ** _Do you think we'll be in love forever?_**

 ** _Do you think we'll be in love?_**

. . …

The moment her Manolos hit the runway, it's like her demons are already catching up with her. This city reeks of _them_. Classic tones and a faster pace, all hitting against the art deco architecture and streamlined monochrome of office workers. Chicago is more casual. Less fussy. This old world of hers speaks of elegance and pride and brashness, as she hails a cab out of the city. The last time she'd been here, she was running away from so many things. Now, she's reluctantly dipping into her old life in an even older city.

She sees old hangouts sweep past the car window, streets she's trampled time and time again, with them only growing in number as the cab travels towards Upper Manhattan. She feels her stomach lash with bile and nervousness. She's thankful that it's a weekend. That she won't have to tread too familiar ground. Just her destination, The Plaza and her apartment. Then it's back to the Windy City.

She sets her sights on her simple list of tasks. _Get in, and get out_. As the cab slows, and a row of white townhouses line the block, she smiles to herself.

Oh, how she had missed them both. _Every single of those thirty-two days._

"Thankyou," She says to the cab driver, before opening the door to a bluster of wind. She hugs her coat to herself, hiding her Elie Saab Black and foil-sequinned dress, her curled auburn hair blowing against her face like some moment in a romantic comedy.

She climbs the steps, smiling to herself as she nears the door, her eyes catching at the 'Ross/Zane' written alongside the buzzer.

 _Soon to be changed_ , she thinks to herself.

She presses her polish-laden index finger against the burnished silver button, hearing that precocious stutter of a sound ringing out onto the street.

"Hello?" Calls a familiar voice.

" _Maid of Honor_...incoming," She says into the intercom, laughing when she hears the "Come right up!" from two distinct voices, followed by the buzzer to allow her entry into the building. She smiles to herself, pulling the heavy white door open.

Rachel is at the top of the stairs, her delicate, lopsided grin peeking out behind luscious lips, clearly excited as she watches her friend climb the stairs with flair.

"Am I too early?" Donna offers candidly, a remark more than an actual question as she meets her petite friend at the edge of the landing.

Rachel envelopes her into a hug.

"God, I've missed you!" She squeals, squeezing Donna with a might that she never realised the brunette even possessed.

She chuckles, allowing Rachel to usher her into the apartment with a fussiness.

"How is everything coming together?" She asks, her eyes darting to Mike, who lingers casually by the doorway, two glasses of red and a smile waiting for them both.

"Good." Mike smirks.

" _Oh my god_ ," Donna moans lavishly, gladly receiving the glass that he hands her, "You _beautiful_ man," She compliments.

"Missed you," He notes, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek.

She smiles, rolling her eyes and rubbing a hand over his face in jest. She hears him chuckle, handing the other glass to Rachel with a kiss and disappearing into the apartment in favour of giving her and Rachel moment alone.

 _A thoughtful other half..._

She smiles to herself. _No matter where either of them are, emotionally or physically, Donna will always consider this young man her annoying little brother, and cherish that fact for life._

 _It's nice to know that some things in this world of theirs will never change..._

She dashes the thoughts that follow, and instead follows Rachel to the lounge, sitting opposite her, them now each with a glass in their hand.

"God, I've missed you." Rachel says, a frown bending her smile.

"Me too Rach. I'm sorry I couldn't be here." She says. The admission of such a thing has her taking a large sip of wine to dull the feeling. It slips down her throat with a potency enough to dull the many thoughts in her head.

"You look gorgeous in _that_ ," Rachel compliments, her free hand reaching out to play with the pleated tulle of her skirt. " _Chicago obviously agrees with you_ ," She notes, a slightly off note in her tone.

"Honey, this is Saks Online," She smiles at her friend. "Chicago isn't exactly the fashion capital of the world." She remarks, her lips twisting into a grimace that they both share for a moment.

" _So tell me_ ," Rachel says, changing the subject. "How is it...working for Jessica?" She asks. "I'm glad I got the opportunity to work alongside her before she left. _She's_ …."

" _Jessica_ is every woman's dream Boss." Donna smirks.

"I don't doubt that for a second,"

"But enough about me, I want to hear about you, Rach. _How are you?_ Are you ready for tonight?" She asks, toeing off her shoes, to sink further into the couch.

"The real question is, are **_you_ **ready for tonight?" She counters, before hiding her boldness behind the flute of the glass.

Donna gives her a look, before taking a sip of her own drink.

She's not surprised that Harvey would crop up in the conversation. _No doubt they had all had to endure Harvey's behaviour over the last month, in all it's assorted colours..._

"He's bringing _her_ you know," Rachel says, apology written all over her face at having to say the words.

" _Oh God_ ," She sighs, boldly.

 _She'd forgotten about that._

"I tried to split you up for the dinner, but it just looks...suspicious, having you seated separately." Rachel frowns, chewing her lip. "I did think about asking him not to bring her, though." She offers.

"No, Rach, you don't have to do that." She pats her friends knee. "It's fine...I'll... _deal with it_. He….picked _her_. That's the end of it. It's, old news, _really_ ," She replies flippantly, shrugging non-committedly and ignoring her friends sudden burn of the third degree, as she downs a large amount of her wine to ease the topic at hand. She pauses, then, sensing her friend's attention on her. " _Rachel_ ," She says, rather harshly. She knows that Rachel only has her best interests at heart, but she's not here for a pity party.

"Okay, I'm sorry, _I'll stop_." Rachel relinquishes, waving a hand of admission. "I mean, dressed like that I'm sure you'll be the hit of the rehearsal." She offers, smirking at her friend.

"Yes, of course Rachel. At the rehearsal dinner for _your_ wedding, obviously my main objective is to be the _focus_ of the night," She throws at her friend, sarcasm thick in her voice.

"Well, it would certainly make me less nervous." She admits, chuckling awkwardly.

Donna joins her then, relaxing.

 _Rachel really is the only beautiful woman in the world that doesn't like to be the centre of attention._

"Well...Whatever the lady wishes," She smirks at her friend, toasting to her, before downing her wine.

 _Wine is easy._

Friends are easy.

Tonight however...is going to be a hard one to swallow.

. .. . …

 _ **With this ring I thee wed, with all my worldly goods I thee endow**_

 _ **To love and to cherish according to God's holy ordinance**_

 _ **You have declared your consent, may the Lord fill you both with blessings**_

 _ **From this day forward, for better, for worse, until death do us part**_

' _ **Deadly Valentine' By Charlotte Gainsbourg**_

 **. . . ...**

Harvey had text Paula, telling her that he had to 'work late'. _Problems with a merger, or something of that nature_ , naturally plucking a company out of the air. One she had heard of, so that it stuck.

He had struggled for three days to tell her that tonight was the rehearsal dinner of his best friend's upcoming wedding. She knew of the wedding itself, and it's date. He had already resolved to bring her to that. But the rehearsal dinner….bringing her along had felt...wrong. He hadn't seen Donna in just over a month. She had left because he had chosen Paula and not her. The last thing in the world that he was prepared to do was to make her endure a night with the two of them there, or seem like he was parading Paula in Donna's face. Not to mention, the tirade of abuse that would inevitably follow from the Bride at making her Maid of Honour's wedding experience less than. _The wedding was different_ , of course. They both had an equal part to play, and Paula would be in the congregation. In his mind...that made it a non-issue.

After many a deduction, and three days of mulling it over, he decided that tonight, he would definitely ride _solo_.

He's checked himself in the mirror four times. **Suit** \- _dark blue and perfectly pressed_. Crisp white shirt with a royal blue tie and baby blue cuffs. **Hair** \- not a strand out of place. He ignores the way his cheekbones stick out a little more of late and the tiredness in his face, that never seems to go away, no matter how much sleep he's had.

 _This is the best it's going to get_ , he thinks to himself.

He's ready.

But there is something in the back. Something long stored away and previously off limits.

He is... _anxious_.

 _He isn't ready to admit why, just yet._

. . . …

 _ **Like a butterfly effect**_

 _ **One hit of a cigarette**_

 _ **Mistakes you don't regret**_

 _ **All I need is five minutes**_

 _ **Like a drug's side effects**_

 _ **Like a ride on a rocket**_

 _ **The love you don't suspect**_

 _ **All I need is five minutes**_

' _ **Five Minutes' By Her.**_

. . . …

Donna Paulsen is getting nervous. In her life, this is uncharted waters. Being fired. _Check._ Leaving Harvey, and being pursued for her expertise. _Check._ Not being part of his life, and having to endure an entire dinner with the man. _NO CHECK IN THE HISTORY OF CHECKS_.

She's had a bottle of wine by now, and yet not even her favourite Shiraz can dash the nervous lash in her stomach. At least she feels like a million dollars. He can take away her former place in his life, but _not_ that.

She is - by all accounts - single and untouchable. By him or any man.

She rides next to Mike in the back of the cab, and looks up at him when he squeezes her hand, a half smile painting itself on her face.

" _You look beautiful_ ," He tells her.

" _Hey you_ ," she mock-frowns, swatting his arm. "Did you hear that?" She asks, craning her neck to meet Rachel's gaze from the left hand side of her fiance.

Rachel pokes her head around Mike, ignoring him and observing her cooly. "If I wasn't marrying this one," She gestures to Mike. " _I'd_ hit on you," She chimes, her pixie nose twitching to match her peach smile.

She rolls her eyes at the pair. "You're both mad. And perfect for one another, might I add." She remarks, settling then in the comfort of banter.

"He's...missed you, you know." Mike says to her.

"Mike," She warns, good naturedly, giving him a Mothering look. But behind her hazel eyes she knows he can see her fear, pure and unyielding. Threatening to break down her walls.

She feels him squeeze her hand once more. "I'm just saying," He shrugs, giving her a matter-of-fact expression.

She nods, looking out of her side of the cab, just to steal a breath to settle herself.

They empty out onto the corner of Central Park West, the grand facade of The Plaza's steps and stonework towering into the night.

It takes her breath away, even as a New Yorker.

 _She's missed this wonderful city_ , she thinks, stepping out onto the curb in front of her friends.

She wonders if Harvey is here, with his apartment only just around the block.

She sheds the thought like a second skin, of the woman that will be with him.

. . . ….

 _ **Once I had a love and it was divine**_

 _ **Soon found out I was losing my mind**_

 _ **It seemed like the real thing but I was so blind**_

 _ **Mucho mistrust, love's gone behind**_

 _ **In between 'what I find is pleasing' and 'I'm feeling fine'**_

 _ **Love is so confusing**_

 _ **There's no peace of mind if I fear I'm losing you**_

 _ **It's just no good, you teasing like you do**_

 **~ Heart of Glass, Crabtree Remix**

 **. . . . ….**

The Plaza is the kind of place that can transport you anywhere. From _The Palm Court_ , a lavish spread of Middle-India meets 1950's Cuba, with it's draped finery in olive greens and palm trees, to _The Grand Ballroom_ , that speaks regality and the French Renaissance, down to _The Terrace Room_ , where weddings upon weddings have been officiated and celebrated in thorough detail and as much money as you can throw away. As a young woman, she had always been lost in it's drama and elegance. In its storytelling, rich background and ripe heritage.

She was the proudest Maid of Honor in the world, to have secured it for her best friend. A woman - _with a worthy man_ \- richly in need of being celebrated as a joined union.

She holds herself back, allowing Rachel to ask for her particular party at the front desk, letting her mind wander at the intricate ceiling patterns, her mind lost in the beauty of the environment.

" _Harvey_ , Hey," She hears Mike call, his voice travelling behind her. She feels a jolt of fear streak right through her core as she straightens, suddenly even taller in her best nude heels. She notices Rachel's eyes flick straight to her, Mike brushing past and behind her, giving her a subtle squeeze in the process. She internally reigns herself in then, she's met Paula before. She can do this again. _She can…_

She turns, her mouth opening slightly in shock.

Harvey is...solo?

Sans Girlfriend. _Sans date..._

Maybe she's late. Or coming later. _Or…_

"... _Donna_..." He says, his jaw solid in reservation. She spies his hands in his pockets as her eyes roam briefly over his imposing form.

 _It's her favourite suit_...her heart sinks into her chest. He's looking at her seriously, pensive almost, but not aggressively, she notes. His mouth opens slightly, sensing her hesitation. She straightens, regaining her composure.

"Hey Harvey, she says casually, trying not to meet him in the eye.

"You look..." He pauses, shedding a breath that seems to sink into his puffed out chest. " _Good_."

She can see it in his eyes. ' _Good' means 'more than good'_. It gives her confidence, as she sways her hair slightly. "You too." She says casually, avoiding just how much she's missed the simple sight of him, in favour of looking over his shoulder. "Where's Paula?" She asks, adding a smile to her face that reeks of agreeableness and ex-wife-ishness.

He frowns slightly, seemingly confused, before his expression settles. "She's... ** _not coming_**." He says, before walking up to Mike. She watches as they share a friendly banter, _brothers until the very end_. It warms her heart to see them engage in friendly banter out of work, and it's something she can't entirely shake, sharing in his ability to hold a person in as high regard, as Harvey does for Mike.

 _She did something right at least…_

Rachel lingers by her side as they walk to the famous _Terrace Room_. It's beautiful, and decorated with a nuance of their upcoming wedding. Rachel had opted - _with Donna's assistance_ \- for peach and dusky pinks, which she decided match both her glorious cappuccino skin tone and Mike's clearwater blue eyes. She had to admit, the palette was perfect, with a hint of amber lighting in the room, and white china with gold edging, the room looked...nothing short of stunning. _And it was a room, so, that was something of an accomplishment..._

Rachel had opted for two round tables, a more intimate setting for nibbles and drinks, and a party of twenty or so for the rehearsal. _Close Friends and Family only._ Donna notices Rachel's Mother and Father, with Robert Zane being temporarily stripped of his status for this one occasion alone. No doubt, he and Harvey would have an interesting exchange. They always had been sparring partners, with Harvey being Jessica's protege. _Something of rivals and knowing your place._ Something Harvey had never been good at.

"Donna, you know my Father," Rachel introduces.

Donna blinks the words as she looks to Robert Zane.

"You mean 'Father of the Bride'," He offers, smirking proudly.

" _Robert_ ," Donna smiles, shaking a hand with the man himself.

"So, I hear you're our baby girl's Maid of Honor." He smirks. "No doubt, she's in very capable arms, after, what is it? Over a decade of managing Harvey?" He jokes.

 _In any other environment it would have been fine banter. But times have changed and she is desperate to._

" _Dad_ ," She hears Rachel's tempered distaste beside her.

" _Oh, Robert_ , never mind me. Donna could manage _you_ _right into the ground_." She hears Harvey remark beside her, ready with a cooly whipped response before she's even regained her composure. Her eyes flick to his and she can see him, giving her an out.

" _And all without saying a word_." She quips, only just about redeeming herself, the stress in her words framing them to a 't'.

"Always the Knight in shining Armour, huh, Harvey?" Robert plays, looking to the lawyer.

" _I have my uses_." He replies, cocking an eyebrow, completely unfazed by Robert Zane's cut throat tactics as if it's just another day at the office.

"If you'll excuse me, _almost_ Gentleman, I have a room to circulate." She says, giving Rachel a look, and regretting it the moment she catches the pity on her face. She stalks away, zeroing in on the small function bar like a shark out for the taste of blood.

"Can I get a Vodka Martini, on the rocks? _Big_ Twist." She says, feeling the burn of a difficult evening brewing around her.

" _Donna_ ,"

She feels the weight of his tone on her name, and it's almost enough to drive her out of the room. She gathers herself inwardly, before looking up at him.

"Hey," She says, observing him looking back at her with just as much interest.

" _Be careful_...I don't want to have to _carry_ you down the aisle." He remarks.

She ignores the insinuations in his words. They aren't those people anymore, so he can stop pretending. "I think we both know when the Martini's roll out, the first one to fold under the table is _you_." She reminds him.

She sees a faint twitch in his jaw, his eyes falling, entertained with thought before he's ready to answer.

"I'll have you know, that I hold my liquor very well." He counters then, smirking at her.

Her chin lifts then, falling into old habits as she plays the fool, looking up to plant her point with a sharply arched eyebrow.

"That...was one time, and _you know_ that I had _had a very_..." He frowns, and for a second she can see him backing out of his defense. " _Hard day_."

She holds her expression long enough for him to fold, shaking his head with a soft chuckle, as his lips twist in a playful frustration.

She smiles with satisfaction, as she sips the Martini that the bartender places in front of her. Her eyes catch at Robert for a second, a lash of bile in her throat at the man's cruel jibe. She takes a larger sip looking back to the bar.

"Don't take it personally," she hears Harvey say. "That guy's such an asshole, i'll bet he pays the water board _double for the privilege_ ," He remarks.

 _It's rare that Harvey makes her laugh. She's always been the joker between the two of them._

She sputters into her cocktail, a portion of it flying towards his shoulder, spraying rather starkly against his suit, the olive juice and lemon juice like oil in water. She feels the blood drain from her face, as he looks, wide eyed, first to his right shoulder and then back at her.

She grabs a napkin, covering the splash against her lips.

" _Well_ ," He remarks, oddly entertained by her as a smile appears on his face. "That was _rude_ …"

She gives him a look, placing her cocktail back on the bar's counter, and snatching several napkins. Her fingers are seconds away from blotting his suit, out of habit, or ease or relief. She pauses, their eyes colliding.

His face is unreadable, and for a second she feels entirely exposed.

Mike's voice cuts through the tension like a well placed knife.

"We better," She gestures, handing him the napkins.

He nods, gesturing for her to lead the way.

 _Time to play their parts..._

. . . ….

It's as though she's appeared into his life, and he's suddenly forgotten about every single thing in the world, _except for her_.

She's dressed like a jet encrusted faberge egg, like a foil filled firework painted black, and it knocks the breath clean from his lungs. Her hair is redder than he remembers, more fire to it and her eyes are greener somehow, and the way she looks at him pulls down sharply on his wounded heart. He covers his feeling in well placed jubilance and joviality, helped by Mike's giddy state. And why _shouldn't_ he be giddy...his best friend is getting to marry the _literal woman of his dreams_ , so sickly sweet in it's notion, and yet...he couldn't be happier for the kid. Really.

He, on the other hand... _has made his bed_.

So why can't he think of lying anywhere else except next to _her_?

When she finally speaks to him, there is a hollowness in her tone that makes his face ache, and then an emerging spike of frustration that tears at his gut. He does everything in his power to _not_ confess his love for her, right there in the lobby of The Plaza, holding himself back for pleasantries sake. It's unlike him, and they are unlike themselves and he's at odds with the entire scenario and this growing being inside him, instead busying himself with Mike until Robert's sharp wit- _verging on a literal attack of Donna_ peaks his interest, and then he's filled with fire and circumstance, taking his place next to her to fight her battles like always.

 _Suddenly they are the same. Like they are a 'two pair' in a winning hand against all odds._

She matches his defence with clean wit, and for a second they are looking at one another...really, looking at one another. And it's like any other day.

He feels a sting in her leaving, retreating to the bar like their roles have somehow swapped themselves and he follows on autopilot, just like she used to.

Because, _to hell with it_. She is here and _not_ ignoring him, as he had feared she might. He had prevented Paula from being her only downfall tonight, all to find someone else filing the difficulties in her absence, as if that position was a fixed point on them and the night.

And then she's softening, and he's laughing and it feels like they haven't spent so much as a day apart. And he's covered in Vodka Martini, and teasing her, with relief washing him clean of any guilt he should feel, and he's alive for the first time in a month.

The night follows as any other in their past. Them against the world. A Team. A pair. _A couple…_

And it's then that he knows what he has to do.

He _has_ to make her _stay_.

He has to make her see how much he needs her in his life.

. . . …

 ** _If I caught the world in a bottle_**

 ** _And everything was still beneath the moon_**

 ** _Without your love would it shine for me?_**

 ** _If I was smart as Aristotle_**

 ** _And understood the rings around the moon_**

 ** _What would it all matter if you loved me?_**

 ** _Here in your arms_**

 ** _Where the world is impossibly still_**

 ** _With a million dreams to fulfill_**

 ** _And a matter of moments until the dancing ends_**

 ** _Here in your arms_**

 ** _When everything seems to be clear_**

 ** _Not a solitary thing would I fear_**

 ** _Except when this moment comes near the dancings´ end_**

 ** _'Until' By Sting_**

. . .. ..

They all gather outside, cabs lining around the block, as Mike and Rachel thank their friends and family for attending.

Donna looks up at the moonlit sky, full of red wine and vodka, all tension finally lost to the night. She smiles to herself, trying not to make a meal of the many thoughts going around in her head, until Rachel gently pulls at her arm. She turns, seeing the smile of gratitude lifting her tired face.

"My Maid of Honor...thank you...for tonight." She says, the meaning spanning along its many relevant facets.

She gives her best friend a restrained look, narrowing her eyes for effect. "You're welcome, my gorgeous blushing Bride-to-be." She smiles, folding her into a hug that rocks them both from side to side.

Rachel breaks apart, a panic fleeting across her face. "You're not going back tonight are you? To Chicago?"

 _She was meant to._ She had supposed so many things of tonight.

But she feels things changing for the first time in her life. Into what, she isn't sure. But the changes are there, as stark as the night.

"No...I'm sure I can spare a….brunch, perhaps?" She offers teasingly.

"Perfect." Rachel smiles. "I still have your dress to show you."

" _Come on you_ ," Mike appears then, his arms wrapping around the obvious object of his affections.

 _It's the first time all night where she's felt a sad tug at her heart._

 _A longing for something of the same…_

"Well...I'll see you tomorrow," She says, pointing to Rachel, her eyes flicking to Mike for a wordless goodbye. She turns, seeing a cab slow against their spot on the sidewalk.

" _Hold the cab_ ,"

Harvey's voice cuts through the warmth of two young lovers, and the bittersweetness of going it alone, as he appears at her side. She flattens the look of confusion on her face, as his hand slides to the small of her back. She doesn't even spot the look that her friends give Harvey, and one another as he slides onto the backseat along with her. She isn't sure that she'd even want to know what that would look like.

" ** _Where to_**?" The cab driver asks, looking at them both in the rear-view mirror.

"Harvey," She turns to him, her head tilting at his appearance. "You live across the block." She notes.

"I know…" He shrugs, countering her frown with an evenness. "But _you_ don't." He says simply.

She stiffens, looking out her side of the cab.

She's honestly too on edge to even ask what's gotten into him.

Her mouth is filling with questions her heart is too terrified to ask.

. . ….

 _ **'Cause here I am, I'm givin' all I can**_

 _ **But all you ever do is mess it up**_

 _ **Yeah, I'm right here, I'm tryin' to make it clear**_

 _ **That getting half of you just ain't enough**_

 _ **I'm not going to wait until you're done**_

 _ **Pretending you don't need anyone**_

 _ **I'm standing here naked (naked, naked)**_

 _ **I'm standing here naked (naked, naked)**_

 _ **I'm not gonna try 'til you decide**_

 _ **You're ready to swallow all your pride**_

 _ **I'm standing here naked (naked, naked)**_

 _ **I'm standing here naked (naked, naked)**_

' _ **Naked' By James Arthur**_

. . .. . .

As always please feed the kitty!


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author's notes** : I wrote this before Chapter three lol. Here's to Donna and Harvey. May we get some serious good changes happening tonight. I made it a task to get the main chapter out before the US airing! _

_Beta'd ;-)_

. . ….

 **Chapter 4**

. . ...

 ** _In between_**

 ** _What I find is pleasing and I'm feeling fine_**

 ** _Love is so confusing there's no peace of mind_**

 ** _If I fear I'm losing you it's just no good_**

 ** _You teasing like you do_**

 _Heart of Glass, Crabtree Remix._

 _. . …._

They are both quiet in the cab ride to her apartment. It takes him back to the days when Ray would drop her off first, their minds addled by the tensions of the day, mixed in with the calm and quiet energy of two people who didn't need to speak in order to transmit their thoughts to one another.

 _This cab ride, is not quite one of **those** times._

He doesn't want to have this kind of conversation with her in such a closed space. _It wouldn't do._ And he guesses she's wondering just what kind of cards he's holding against his chest.

So they sit, frozen, no less than eight inches away from one another. Her hands in her lap, and his spread flat against the worn vinyl, filling up the space between them.

Half way into their journey he wants to say something, to cut the growing tension in half, but again, it doesn't feel right. Suddenly their ease has gone and he knows it has nothing and wholly everything to do with them sitting in a cab together, alone.

" _I'm glad they've finally stopped shelving the wedding_." Donna speaks up, her voice sounding tired, each consonant softened by the roundness of alcohol.

He smirks to himself, glancing out of the windows. _Of course she's the one to strike up conversation first._ Because….she's Donna and she's not been able to sit through so much as a coffee with him without speaking. She is, for want of a better word, _a chatterbox_ , most days. It's the only thing that never matched her job role. Her old one, at least...

"Yeah…" He agrees with a small smile. "After everything they...deserve to be...happy." He says.

 _His words drop like a stone into a deep dark blue of their past..._

It takes a heartbeat of silence between them, before he curses himself for the stupidity of such a comment, rushing into other words. " _Mike looks like his birthdays have all come at once_." He remarks, glancing at her.

She snorts, thinking on the night for a moment longer than he's able to quantify. "He's always looked at her like that." She says, half to herself.

He feels a lump in his throat thicken. _So, he's not the only one treading on double meanings tonight…_ "You're right." He says quietly. " _He has_." He ignores the look she gives him.

It is sudden, the feeling of being suffocated, by the ripe feeling and the questions filling all invisible space in the cab. By the smell of her and a flood of things she's holding back from saying, it seems.

" _Harvey_?"

His eyes flick up to hers, her face partly obscured by the flashes of shadow as the cab's light is temporarily engulfed by a bridge.

"What's going on?" She asks him.

It doesn't even come as a question, really, more an admission of their little pockets of moments.

He feels his jaw tighten. _An old habit_. Something that doesn't seem to calm him anymore. Now it only seems to ride the tension further.

He's terrified of losing her all over again, even when she feels so far away, sat right next to him.

His eyes snap closed for a second, pulled down by the emotions flying around in his chest. When he's found the courage to open them again, the cab has come to a stop, the driver looking at them both. He frowns deeply, fishing a fifty out of his wallet and handing it to the man in the driver's seat. _He should take off a tip for the worst timing in history_ , he thinks to himself.

"Goodnight Harvey," He hears her say, his gaze flicking up to a door slamming against it's frame.

He feels his heartbeat start to fasten, as he slips out of his side, marching over to Donna's retreating form as the cab drives away.

"Donna, _**stop**_ ," He calls after her. He's steadily becoming someone else in front of her, someone with words and feelings and the energy to tell her every single little thing in his mind, like a nervous tick. Not hold it all back like he had done so many times before.

He watches her sigh, something exasperated, her back and shoulders lifting with the sheer effort of it, her key dangling from her hand. When she turns her back, she's looking at him like it physically hurts for him to keep her here.

" _Donna_ ," He whispers, his voice cherishing every single vowel and consonant of it.

 _Her name has been his Swan Song. His one dying request, and his Safe House, for so long it's like there is no other name than hers._

"What, Harvey?" She frowns, suddenly gathering up a potency that she'd clearly been hiding. She takes a step towards him. "What are we doing? What are you doing _here_?" She demands.

"Donna..." He frowns. " _You wouldn't let me see you. You had Jessica tell me_ _ **not**_ _to call you_ , And I've spent the last month, trying to work out how to tell you, what I've wanted to tell you five weeks ago. What I drove, halfway across the damn country to tell you." He explains, his arm lifting with an effort.

" _And what is that,_ Harvey?"

"That I...made a mistake, with _you_." He tells her. " _With us_." He says. "And I regret it."

"Why?"

" _ **You know why**_ ,"

She looks at him, for the longest moment, her eyes widening gradually, her nostrils flared in reaction. In a flurry, she's unlocking the main door, and folding into the buildings lobby.

It's then that he starts to panic. When he knows that time is virtually running through him.

He follows after her, mentally kicking himself for his lack of clear thought.

. . . …

 ** _Stones taught me to fly_**  
 ** _Love taught me to lie_**  
 ** _And life taught me to die_**  
 ** _So it's not hard to fall_**  
 ** _When you float like a cannonball_**

 _'Cannonball' By Damien Rice_

 _. . ..._

 _She's done being a mistake. Something to pity. Something to feel bad over._

 _She's done._

She's not sure what she wanted to hear, but it wasn't that. A mistake is something you wish you could erase, not alter. It drags something ugly and resentful clean out of her. Something he hasn't seen. Something that has been brewing for the longest time.

" _ **Donna**_ ," She hears his voice, rough and irritated, following her down the hallway. "Donna, I didn't mean it like that, just wait a minute,"

 _He's persistent, she'll give him that_ , she thinks, rolling her eyes to his sudden staying power. Her heart begins to race as she stalks the halls towards her front door, half rage, and fury and embarrassment at his words.

"Donna, will you just _**stop**_ _?_ For one god damned second?" He calls irritably, grabbing at her hand in the hope of stopping her escape, or knocking her off course.

Her hair whips around at the action, their dark, still wide eyes meeting with the same kind feeling as before. Suddenly her heart is racing beneath tulle and sequins, her hand clammy against his, their fingers precarious as he holds firmly onto her. She looks from him to their joined hands. " ** _And what about Paula_**?" She fires at him. " ** _Huh_**?" She bites. "I gather she's not just some _mistake_ you made?" She adds, knowing it's enough to stall him, tugging her hand free.

She walks those last few steps to her door, her fingers panicking to find the right key in time to end this...whatever it is.

"She told me to... _find out how I feel about you_." He reams the words.

"Well... _isn't she a caring, considerate girlfriend_ ," She jibes, her tongue suddenly venom as she rolls her eyes, still gambling with twice the keys in half the time.

 _She should have known Paula was still firmly in the picture...the idea of it makes her blood boil and a violence tremble inside her in a way that scares her. Like an earthquake, over a decade too late in erupting._

"Donna... _it's not like that_ ," He says, taking the opportunity to close the distance before she breaks for another exit. _One he's sure he'll have to kick in to get to her._ "Donna, will you just stop and listen to me?" He demands, his hand on the door between them.

Her face flicks up at him, something livid in her eyes. "Why? So you can tell me how your girlfriend has given you a 'free pass' to exorcise all feeling for me?" She remarks, her tongue running ahead of her and feeling peeling out. " _If you think that you get to sleep with me, and then go back to her, you really are out of your mind_..." She spits the words.

"Donna," He placates. "You know me. I would _**never, ever**_ do that to you… _ **hey**_ ," He barks, catching at her eyes. "Look...I already know... _how_ I feel." He says, earning her immediate attention. "None of this is about Paula, and _you know it_." He says, still trying to get her to stop. "Damnit Donna," He grabs at her shoulders. It's a bold move. They barely ever touch, and never when they are angry, but if he can just get her to stop and look at him for longer than a second, he might just win. "I _miss_ you, Donna, okay?" He tells her. "I miss you. All the time."

They never touch. In over a decade, they've only ever slept together once, kissed once, held hands once, and hugged...once. Touched, maybe less than a dozen times. It seems strange, and it is. They don't touch, and for that there is a reason. Words are strict, like safe deposit boxes around their hearts. But contact is...fluid. Dangerous. Yielding of something they can't control or temper right.

 _He understands for the first time what he has done to her. How they might have been so different if only he hadn't been so scared..._

Her tone changes, blinking several times as her eyes fill, looking back at the anguish in his features, the way his hands curl around her arms. It feels protective and desperate, like he never wants to let her go.

She sighs, finally, "I miss you too, Harvey." She manages. "But I'm done standing by the sidelines. You either want me, or you dont, and I wo-"

He can't help it, it's wrong, and he knows it, given all she knows and _Paula_ … everything about his actions are wrong somehow, wrong in the moment and in it's impulse, but through all of that...the object of them is... _right_. She is right, the way that his hands slide into her heavy hair is right, right down to his lips, tilting hers to meet him halfway as he claims them. She's right, right there, in front of him again and his need of her feels no less than a confirmation. Her hands that press firmly against his chest loosen, when his tongue out darts slowly, nudging her mouth open for him. It's only then that she reacts fully, dropping her bag between their feet, her hand sliding around the nape of his neck to pull him closer. He heaves an inward breath, one hand dropping and sliding between her coat, to press at her waist, closing the agonizing distance between their bodies.

This hallway has witnessed so many sides of them.

Affection. Attraction. Anger. Resentment. Confusion.

Lust.

 _And now Love._

He loves her.

He always has…

. . ….

She is angry and confused and irrational and everything seems too much, right up until the moment he kisses her. And he's _really kissing her_ and not the way she had kissed him in her office. He tastes like signature Macallan and smells like late evenings in his own office alone, together. And it's like everything she's ever missed in a kiss from every man that has ever graced her life. Stephen Huntley. Mark Meadows, Mitchell and all the other names that seem to dissipate into the air around the man that everybody knows of.

 _The_ Harvey Specter kisses with his entire soul, and it silences every bad thought and feeling and memory, from the tips of her toes right up to the roots of her hair. She relaxes then, as she sheds the figure of him in her mind, that untouchable ghost of a man, who never so much as holds her hand, and replaces him with a man who can feel things for her and does willingly. Suddenly she's on fire at the feeling of his hands around her waist and his mouth sucking at hers, and she thinks that she'll die happy knowing that she hadn't wasted her life beside him all those years if it gives her this one moment above all others.

He halts, ripping away from her with flying colours in his mind.

"Harvey," She whispers, her eyes snapping open at the action, like a child ripped carelessly from the womb.

"I have to go." He tells her.

"What?" She frowns, "Now? Where are you-" She stutters, slightly flabbergasted by the change of tone, and the sudden chill around her where his arms had been.

"I'll be back. I have to… _fix something_." He says in a slight rush, pulling her confused form back into him, their lips merging once more. His kiss is firm and short but confident then. More confident than anything else in his life. His hand slides to her face, a mixture of need and eyes wide with a suspended fear.

"Promise me you'll be here when I get back?" He says, the pad of his thumbs brushing over her cheekbones.

"Harvey, _I,_ " She frowns.

"Donna. _Promise me_."

"Okay." She nods numbly, still not catching up with his train of thought. "I promise I'll be here."

"Good," He nods, lickings his lips, the feeling of her all over him lighting his nerves on fire. "I'll be... _ **right back**_ …" He says, touching the tip of her chin one more time before marching down the hall and away from her.

. . . …

 ** _With you I stand, but for how long?  
For how long?  
But for how long...  
With you my colors raged, but for how long?  
For how long?  
For how long...  
With you, I am harbor  
With you there was no distance  
For how long?  
But for how long...  
With you we drew no lines  
With you there was no divide  
But for how long?  
For how long?_**

´With You' By Tom Misch and Carmody

. . …. .

He has to do this right. _Otherwise, who are they to one another?_ He has to do it right otherwise it'll ruin everything they've ever been to one another.

He's not a cheat.

But Paula hasn't done a thing wrong. Not really.

All she ever said was ' _yes'_ to him.

 _He_ started this mess.

So he'll finish it.

He owes her _that_ much.

. . . ..

 ** _I remember it well_**

 ** _The first time that I saw_**

 ** _Your head around the door_**

 ** _'Cause mine stopped working_**

 ** _I remember it well_**

 ** _There was wet in your hair_**

 ** _I was stood in the stairs_**

 ** _And time stopped moving_**

 ** _I want you here tonight_**

 ** _I want you here_**

 ** _'Cause I can't believe what I found_**

 ** _Oh, and you're here and I want you here_**

 ** _Nothing is taking me down, down, down_**

 _'I Remember' By Damien Rice_

. . . …

He feels guilt creep up and over him as the cab nears her house, pulling his coat together to cut out the slight chill from the shift of a drop in temperature and his tired muscles that long for sleep. He wipes at his face absent-mindedly and uses the key to her office door, opening it.

She's there, in her office, same as always, sat at her desk, blonde, child-like and in-obtrusive.

"Harvey," She says, "What are you doing here?"

" _Vanilla_? Donna put it in my coffee the first day that she came to work for me, telling me I'd love it and It's…been that way ever since." He says.

She seems to want to say something, but needs to continue. " _That cactus, that you hate, in my apartment_? She gave it to me, because she said that if she ´gave me something too needy that it would intimidate me, and I'd let it die'. So...I kept it going. Watered it every couple of days because she _wanted me_ to keep it going. She...picked out my apartment, my tailor... She...arranged every single little piece of my life for nearly fifteen years, and when she left me, because I couldn't tell her _how_ I loved her...it broke me. _But you_ …" He says taking a step forward. "You gave me a way out of that. A way out of admitting what she was to me. And I...could be open with you. In a way I couldn't with her. With you, it mean that I didn't have to face her, and the idea of who really she was in my life, because I had you." He sighs, looking at her morphing expression. "I didn't ask you to the rehearsal dinner... or even tell you, because she's the maid of honor and I'm the best man, and I didn't want to upset her. I _can't_ upset her."

"So that's why you didn't tell me," She nods, piecing things together in her mind. "I wondered...why there wasn't one."

He nods, grimly. There's more to tell, and if he doesn't get it all out then he really is done for.

"Paula...I asked you out the morning after Donna told me that she wanted more. She couldn't tell me what more was...so...I ran. Because I was scared and an asshole. And I hurt you both. But I don't want to hurt both of you anymore. I chose _you_...Paula. Because you did everything right. But Donna's...Donna is…. _part of me_. A part that...I don't think I can ever get back...even if I wanted to."

She's silent, and frozen still in the moment.

"Paula...please... _say_ something." He says, suspended in her silence. _Like always..._

"I guess….this is it then." She says, frowning slowly. "I can't...think of what to say," She chimes bitterly.

He nods. He understands. "I'm so, so sorry, Paula."

"I guess I should have seen it. The missing pieces. There were...more than a few." She says, her frown deepening.

"I never ever meant to hurt you." He tells her.

"I believe that." She says, pausing for a moment to rummage through her bag. She pops back up, a moment after, a familiar looking key on a brown leather keyring in her hands. She places it carefully in front of her laptop, on his side of the desk. "Let me guess...this is hers too, right?" She says, perception and sadness running all over her face.

His shoulders drop, guilt filling his lungs. "Yeah…" He nods.

"You should never have given it to me in the first place, Harvey." She warns.

"She gave it back to me...I…I...panicked."

She nods, understanding then. "Well, I guess this is...Goodbye?"

"Yeah... _Goodbye_ Paula." He half-shrugs.

It's sat. But again, it feels right somehow.

He turns, walking slowly to the door. When it shuts behind him, he breathes the first easy breath that he has in months.

He hails a cab, with only one thought on his mind.

To get back to her. To tell her.

To make things right.

. . . …

Donna Paulsen is confused, and angry but mostly just very, very confused.

She's sat on the couch, arms folded, dressed to the nines, in her old apartment, left dusty and unused for weeks, waiting for a man she gave up waiting for a month ago. A man, who kissed her an hour ago, then stopped, promising his return, only to make her wait for him. Like every single time before.

She looks at the clock. _It's nearly ten_. She frowns. She's getting cold, her coat discarded, having seemed too formal for somewhere she used to live. Her eyes shoot to the clock once more. _Ten o'one. Geesuz..._

She knows, deep down where he's been this whole time. Harvey is a simple creature, at heart. He likes everything in a row...for everything to be done with a consecutive and orderly process to it. Logical. Neat. Tidy. Not a hair out of place, metaphorically speaking. _He'd give Christian Grey a run for his money, that's for sure…_

She idly wonders if she has any wine, something to calm her nerves, something to still the vibrant dynamo in her stomach and the firecrackers lighting up in her mind.

 _But no amount of wine could take down this night._

She jumps a little when she hears a knock at the door, standing up immediately, but weaving on the spot. Unsure if she should open it. If she should let this possibly brewing chaos back into her world.

She takes a moment or two, hearing a second, louder knocking, before opening the door.

"Hey," He says, looking at her like she's the only woman in the world.

"Hey," She responds.

He seems to wait for a beat, or until her expression softens, and then it's as if no time has past at all, as he stalks into the room, immediately gathering her up in his arms, his chest crushing against hers.

"God, I've missed you." He breathes, the sides of their faces brushing.

 _She might of thought about waiting until that moment._ And it's enough to break her down, hearing those words.

"Harvey," She manages, through the tightness of their embrace.

He loosens his hold on her, his hand coming up to smooth against her cheek, banishing any tears that might have fallen and gathered there. Their eyes meet, and suddenly she's is engulfed in the richness of his eyes, dark with a depth that is innately him, the million layered feeling that he seems to emit.

" _You should have told me_." He says to her, holding her face. "I know I didn't deserve it. But you still should have told me that you felt something…"

"Harvey...I've tried to tell you," She manages.

He pulls away then, "No. You haven't."

"Harvey," She objects, but he's gathering in resolve now.

"Let me finish. _**I asked you**_ , what more meant. I...with Scottie, _**I asked**_ it if was about _you_. When you asked me _how_ I love you, _**I asked you if you wanted everything**_." He tells her, suddenly overcome by the softening look in her eyes. "All you had to say was 'yes', Donna." He tells her matter of factly. "... _I love you_. You should know by now...there's nothing in the world that I wouldn't give you."

A small sigh of relief escapes her, as she examines his face fully. Stress lines run like the nazca plates across his forehead, an ingrained frown the clear evidence of strain in his life. His skin is slightly coarse, and yet damp to the touch. He's been panicking since he left, and even before that, maybe.

"What about Paula?" She asks. It's cruel, but she needs to know, if she is to heal.

"Paula was...the real mistake, Donna." He tells her. "I screwed up. And now...I've fixed it." He tells her.

"That's where you were?" She clarifies.

He nods a confirmation of the fact.

She doesn't need to know anymore. The only thing they ever miscommunicated with were their feelings. Everything else she'd already figured out.

"We're both a little dumb, you know?" She notes, looking at him with a trademarked expression of hers, something held between the lines of humour and honesty.

"Yeah..." He smiles lazily. "I'm just beginning to figure that out." He smirks, until something occurs to him, and he looks down, fishing in his coat pocket. He plucks the keyring from his hand, dangling it in front of her. "Do me a favour, and...never give this back to me?" He says, his face candid but his eyes more serious.

She laughs then, something short, and deep in her throat, as she takes the key from him, her lips bending into a smile, as she takes his hand and drags him with her, placing the key on her coffee table, before guiding him to her bedroom. Before she has time to make a clear decision, he's pinned her up against the back of the door, shedding his coat onto the floor and grabbing hold of her ribcage, kissing her like she is his last willing breath.

In the back of his mind, as he unzips her, touching parts of her he hasn't set foot against well over a decade, he wonders how they held this feeling for so long. _So many women, and several men between them._ All distractions against one very important truth.

 _She was made to follow him. And he was made to hold her._

He pulls them to the bed, and her on top of him, all legs and bony knees fitting around him in his lap. She gasps, their lips colliding as she undoes his waistcoat, unwrapping it from his form as his lips suck at her neck, primal and surrendering to her, and to her only. Marking her as his. She moans in response, something exquisite and colourful and _so very Donna_ , as he grinds her against him. She can feel his need of her, raw and energised underneath her seated form. Her hands catch his jaw, pulling his mouth up to meet hers, as she kisses him, lips swollen and slightly bruised, before her fingers undo every single button of his shirt at a race speed, undressing him until he is down to his vest. He leans back, his hands pulling off the white vest in a flurry and throwing it to the floor, impatient to that touch of feel skin against skin. She is pale and soft and no different in all the years that he's struggled to forget the sight of her. He leans her back against her bed, claiming her mouth once more as she follows his lead, ripping the clasp of his leather belt open, following with his top button, and then unzipping his suit pants. He groans, feeling her cup him briefly, as he pushes them to the end of the bed, his socks meeting the pile on carpeted flooring.

He pauses, witnessing her splayed on her bed, underneath him, that dewy looking in her eyes, as he examines her body, underwear maroon and lacy, offsetting her delicate form.

He inhales, his jaw sharpening as he gazes down at her, that come hither stare of hers finally knitting all their past together as one.

She seems to sense his reservation, or at least the magnitude of the moment, as her hands slide to his face, her maroon clad nails scratching lightly at his skin.

"Love me _how_?" She asks boldly, recounting a question that has haunted their past.

He feels a slight squirm in his stomach, something of guilt and the old him. He overrides it, his face looking pained for a moment, before he utters " _Completely_ ", his eyes darker than she's ever seen.

She chokes back the shock of his admission, her hands tracing over the muscles of his shoulders.

"What do you mean 'more'?" He asks her, his face serious.

"I mean you, Harvey. I want more...with you." She says, her eyes filling like a sky full of stars on the clearest summer night.

He smirks, relief filling him as he descends on her, their lips crashing together like waves.

. . . ….

 ** _There is a house built out of stone_**

 ** _Wooden floors, walls and window sills_**

 ** _Tables and chairs worn by all of the dust_**

 ** _This is a place where I don't feel alone_**

 ** _This is a place where I feel at home_**

 ** _'Cause, I built a home_**

 ** _For you_**

 ** _For me_**

' _To Build a Home' By Cinematic Orchestra_

 _. . . ..._

They don't come back up for air until the sun beckons them both. He wakes up to warmth and the feeling of being completely at ease with the world. The smell of the room is so completely _her_ , filled with vanilla and pineapple and cherries and... _Home_. He nudges her shoulder with his nose, hearing her gentle snore beside him. He's incredibly turned on at the potential feel of her, no less than six inches to his left. Having spent most of the night with her in his arms - _against the alarm bells of various muscles protesting his naive decision_ \- being this far apart is a step too far for him now. He feels giddy and child-like with a glee-filled emotion at being here. In bed. _With Donna_. Next to her. Able to touch her, without the fear on onlookers, or Bosses or _ex-girlfriends..._

"I can almost hear you thinking," She mumbles beside him.

His eyes snap immediately to her face, serene and freckly, very different to the kohl rimmed eyes and dramatic red pout. If you didn't know any better, you'd think they were different people entirely. And in some ways there are. But this is the side of her that he has been longing for. Soft, gentle, amber haired and within an arms grasp.

He smirks then, sidling up next to her, so that his stomach touches her right hip, his erection making itself an obvious party between them. It's enough of an indication of his wakeful state, as she opens her eyes, feeling his chin on her shoulder. They are akin to teenagers, brown-eyed and in awe of one another. She turns slightly, her left hand sliding to his jaw, as she leans in to kiss him. It feels like morning coffee between them, or an early phone call. Likened to all of the times that he had needed her and she had pandered to him only feel it comfort her as well.

She finally understands something. How they've been in a real relationship for years. All of the hard parts, they passed years ago, with flying colours. This was just the...cherry on top of it all.

She smirks, her hand sliding down to graze her fingernails on the soft flesh between his hip and pubic bone. She smiles wickedly, watching him pout and then sigh at the action, an almost hiss of tension falling out of him as she feels that bob of interest in a certain part of his anatomy. He quirks an eyebrow, something playful that has her laughing as he presses her onto her back. She had pulled on a pair of silk pyjamas after their love making, the night before. He pulls back, kneeling over her, enveloped in covers. He smirks, bending over to fulfill an impulse as he lifts her delicate top with one hand, exposing her flat freckled stomach, his lips descending to trace a long pattern across her skin, that snakes slowly, closer to the hem of her panties.

"Old habits," She hums, smiling lazily at the action, that coils a ripe pleasure deep in her groin.

"Rituals," He adds, smirking wickedly at the rich sound of pleasure that she makes under his careful touch.

. . . ….

 _Their children will ask one day,_

 _What caused them to change their relationship from just coworkers and friends, to more than._

 _Donna, will speak of Two Cities,_

 _And how it took them to part, only to come back together again as one._

 _And Harvey, will speak of Love,_

 _That spanned them both, far enough to bridge the gap._

. .. . .

fin.


End file.
